


Epicenter

by ohmyflavors (hannibae)



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8974573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibae/pseuds/ohmyflavors
Summary: They’re staring out at the same thing. 
The sunset, big and bombastic, and Rhett is going to remember this feeling forever. 
He has never loved Link more than he does right now, in this moment, wearing robes and drinking expensive whiskey.





	

They’re staring out at the same thing.

That’s not a metaphor, except it kind of is.

In its entirety, they’ve spent essentially their whole life—and at this point, it’s one life, split and shared, and Rhett wouldn’t imagine it being any different—staring out at the same thing.

The same goal, right out in the distance, but also the same scenery, in front of their faces while they share moments. Their life has been intimate. Rhett can’t think of another person who knows him better, and vice-versa. They’ve cracked the code, that pesky little thing people constantly chase their whole lives. He will never be alone.

He will always be okay.

He will always have Link.

But, he digresses.

Back to the original statement: they’re staring out of the balcony of their hotel room. The robe he’s wearing is fluffy and soft and way too short. More of his thigh is exposed than should be, but he doesn’t really care. The drink in his hand is warming him up, a tumbler of whiskey stronger than he’s used to.

Link is squinting into the sunset, oranges and purples making him glow, and Rhett looks away before he thinks something really stupid.

He doesn’t get emotional often, as a rule he made for himself. There’s a sub-rule to that one that says ‘Don’t get emotional about Link often’, but on days like today it’s really hard to follow that rule. Before he notices it, there’s a lump in his throat, and he’s clearing it away, shaking his head.

“Everything okay?” Link asks, and he’s squinting up at Rhett now.

Rhett nods, and doesn’t manage to catch himself before he’s putting his glass down, grabbing Link’s face in his hands and pressing his mouth to his. It’s nothing they haven’t done before, but it’s been a long time since one of them slipped up. Link knows something is wrong, now, and Rhett grins down at him, trying to quell any fears.

Link cocks his head to the side with a small smile, licking his lips in a move Rhett is sure he doesn’t notice himself doing.

They’re staring out at the same thing.

The sunset, big and bombastic, and Rhett is going to remember this feeling forever.

He has never loved Link more than he does right now, in this moment, wearing robes and drinking expensive whiskey.

 “Yeah, baby, I’m good,” he says, and his voice is thick. “Come here.”

Link crowds in close, curls up until he’s small and tucked up against Rhett, still smiling; and Rhett envelops him in his arms, resting his chin on the top of his head. They sigh into each other, and for a second Rhett gets angry. It’s just a second, and he hates that it happens, but it swells in him like a wave, cresting and crashing in one smooth motion. He feels it in his chest, in his toes, and he holds Link closer, squeezing too hard. Link doesn’t say anything, lets him have this moment, but Rhett hears the intake of breath.

When they pull away, it’s Link that kisses him this time, a questioning look on his face.

“I love you,” Rhett says when they pull apart. Then he rubs his hands over his face, exhaling heavily. He can feel the bones in his body, every single one of them at this moment, and they’re all thrumming to reach out and grab Link and never let him go.

They’re staring out at the same thing.

But Rhett thinks maybe he sees something different.

Rhett thinks maybe Link isn’t seeing something at all, that it’s missing from his peripheral vision.

_He_ can see it, though, every single day, in that stupid little smile Link’s always got on his face, in the wisps of hair he can’t get to go in place. It’s in the smell at the top of his head, the twitch of his fingers when he’s adjusting his glasses. It’s in the scar on his ankle from that time they were riding bikes as kids, and Rhett watched him really fall for the first time, saw him cry for the first time.

Rhett sees it.

Maybe Link sees it, too.

He sees it right now, Rhett thinks, because he leans up for another kiss, and this one tastes like the sunset.

This is ‘I love you, too, Rhett’.

This is ‘I know’.

This is ‘I’m sorry’.

This is whatever Rhett needs it to be, and it’s none of those things at all, not really, and he can’t stop his hands from reaching for him, settling under the robe and touching skin like he’s starving for it.

“I love you,” he says again, muffled against Link’s mouth. “I love you.”

It feels like a confession. It’s a pang in his chest when Link kisses him, mumbles it back. He means it, throws himself into the words, hands flying up to Rhett’s shoulders to hold himself in place while they kiss. And maybe he sees it, too.

They’re staring out at the same thing.

Right now, the scenery is changing, the sunset fading behind them as Rhett leads them back into the room, shivering at the temperature change. He feels Link’s smile against his mouth, and he returns it. Link tastes sweet, he tastes perfect. And his hands map out all the curves and dips of Link’s torso, the tie coming loose under his movements.

His fingertips know this body, know every aspect of it. This is right. This is how it’s supposed to be. _Link_ feels right. From the askew jaw alignment to the wiry, lithe limbs, it all feels right. It’s like this is the version of himself he’s supposed to be. He’s supposed to love Link.

He’s so happy this is who he’s supposed to be, because he doesn’t know how to not love Link.

In every universe, he loves Link.

Every version of himself loves Link, he’s sure of it, and there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.

They’re staring out at the same thing.

They’re staring at each other, a question hanging heavy in the air between them. It’s answered instantly, in a sweet smile from Link and a hysterical huff of laughter from Rhett before they’re lunging at each other again. He tastes like desperation.

So does Rhett, and Link does his best to lick the taste of it out of Rhett’s mouth, grunting and groaning in the process. There’s heat under all of this, an untouched subject that they don’t dare ever talk about, and that’s what they’re staring at.

That’s what they’ve been staring at their whole life, just out of reach, far enough away that they don’t bother trying. They’ll never get there. They don’t have to get there. They’re right here, looking out at it together, knowing it’s there.

And that’s enough.

This is enough.

When Link presses up against him, it all shatters down around him and it’s so far from being enough right at that moment that he can’t stand it. It makes him itch, makes him thrum and vibrate out of his skin and he wants to hold Link down with him forever because no one has been here as long. No one has stuck around as long as Link. No one feels as permanent as Link.

Everyone else can leave—they have the possibility.

Link is forever. They’re blood brothers. They’re best friends. They’re kindred spirits. They’re business partners. They’re the beginning and the end and everything in between.

They’re staring out at the same thing.

This is impossible, this feeling, and he tries to chase some sort of definition, a word, anything at all to try and explain what this is, but he can’t. He’s never been able to. It’s okay, and Link feels him thinking, pulls him down onto the bed and makes him forget everything that isn’t _Link_ , _Link_ , _Link_.

It’s a web, a sticky spider’s web that Rhett is caught in, and instead of being eaten alive, he’s being held in his soft cocoon and pet and whispered to. Link’s tongue is deft and wiggly, lapping at Rhett’s cock, and he doesn’t know how they got this far.

He doesn’t remember at all, can’t tell the difference between the blurs of his memories, but he redirects his thoughts to this, the wet heat of Link’s mouth sinking down around him.

Link’s eyes are wet, but he’s smiling while he works his tongue down the length of Rhett’s cock, fingers holding him in place. It’s soft and slow, and Link winks at him before sinking down, down, down, nose buried in the trimmed hair. Rhett feels like he’s floating, lets out a groan that’s loud enough to rattle through him. His fingers tangle themselves in Link’s hair, hold him in place selfishly.

“I love you,” he says again, and Link swallows around his cock as he tries to say it back. “I fucking love you.” Link pulls off with a filthy sound that goes straight to Rhett’s gut.

“You just love getting sucked off,” Link laughs, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, catching the excess spit and rubbing it on the bed.

Rhett shakes his head, uses his weight to pull Link close, drag him down with him so they can lie there together, Links’ head perched on his arms, crossed over Rhett’s chest.

They’re pressed together so closely, skin-on-skin that’s making Rhett curl into the feeling instinctively. The feeling of Link’s fat, hard cock pressed to his stomach has him groaning, rolling them over so he can get at him. He just wants to touch, taste, swallow him down whole until he can’t breathe anymore. He wants to consume himself in this moment, get lost in it, never rise from it.

“Can we do this forever?” he asks, and Link looks apologetic now. So he sinks his mouth down around him, looks him in the eyes while he does it, and watches the apology fade into something else entirely. Link leans his head back against the pillows, mouth falling open while Rhett sucks his cock down greedily.

It’s been forever since he’s done this, since he’s had the weight of Link on his tongue, but it’s muscle memory. His throat opens, and Link lets out this sound that cuts right through Rhett, has him digging his fingers into Link’s hips while he gets as far down as he can. It’s almost all the way, so close to being as good at this as Link is, but he can’t quite get there.

Link tugs at his hair, and he pulls off, surging up Link’s body to find his lips again. He lets him lick the taste of himself out of Rhett’s mouth.

“We can’t do this forever,” Rhett says. “We can’t, but I want to.”

He looks upset again. Rhett doesn’t get to him quickly enough, and he tells Rhett. “Bo, we can do this as much as you want.”

“Don’t tell me that, Link.” There’s a hint of begging in his voice, the desperation shifting its purpose, and Link gives him a small smile.

“Get out of your head and fuck me,” Link says. “This isn’t so serious.”

And Rhett’s smiling too, now.

He falls into it, just like that, just like old times.

Link blushes, and his mouth falls open around a thick moan when Rhett leans down to mouth at his chest.

“Yeah,” he breathes, and Rhett sinks his teeth into him, hidden away under his ribs, low enough that it’ll bruise easily.

It’s a promise. “Want me to put my cock in you? Open you up for me and fuck you all night?”

Link is nodding like crazy, and Rhett loses himself in this. It’s a role he hasn’t played in a long time, but it’s so natural, the version of himself he’s supposed to be.

“Please,” Link is panting, glasses askew. Rhett doesn’t take them off, wants him to see, to feel, everything. He wants to be in all of his senses, like Link is for him.

He doesn’t need to beg. Rhett doesn’t need encouragement to do whatever Link wants, only permission.

He rushes through it all, gets him slick and open and writhing around on the bed while he begs and pants and whines. He’s the most beautiful thing Rhett has ever seen in this moment. This is the most beautiful thing.

Never in his life has he felt more alive than he does right now, easing his cock inside of his best friend. Link grinds his teeth the whole stretch, and when Rhett bottoms out, he lets out a sob, his chest heaving with it.

“Fuck, you’re so big,” he moans, wriggles his hips down.

Rhett watches him fall apart, or maybe he’s coming back together again. He can’t tell anymore. His own chest expands while he watches Link take him, body reaching out for more, hands holding onto him, grounding himself.

He remembers that he’s in love with Link.

All their lives, they’ve had titles for this, but maybe they’ve all been wrong. Maybe that’s why they’ve changed so many times.

Right now, while he’s holding him down and fucking him, whiskey and emotions still warming his chest, all of the things they’ve called themselves to try and define this relationship run through his head and feel fuzzy. They feel incorrect.

He holds Link’s arms above his head, watching his eyes water, the smile on his face bright and honest.

Wrapped around them like an ill-fitting sweater, labels and labels and labels, and they’ve all ended up being jokes. But not this. This isn’t a joke. This is the best Rhett’s ever felt in his life.

His smile matches Link’s, and he says, “I’m in love with you.”

He watches Link come, watches his face go slack and tears run down the sides of his cheeks.

“I know,” Link says. “Me, too.”

He comes, just like that, hips snapping forward.

They’re staring out at the same thing.


End file.
